Of Monsters and Men
by Mikkal
Summary: There's a Grimm in Portland and he's brought the War with him. Major AU.
1. Chapter 1

Of Monsters and Men

Grimm

Mikkal

* * *

**1.**

"Sir, you need anything?" Gina smiled at the man sitting near the window, hunched over like he was trying to get smaller. There was some purple darkening on his jaw that he seemed determined to hide with his jacket collar. He was handsome, though, stunning blue eyes, raven hair, and pale skin. His smile was to die for when he turned it on her.

"No thank you," he said, there was something interesting in his voice. Almost like it was mixture of German and American. She would know, her grandmother was German. "I'm good."

She nodded and continued down the aisle to the other occupants of the plane going from Dulles International Airport in Virginia to Portland International in Oregon.

"Pst! Gina," Sarah stage whispered. "Did you see that really hot guy in H17?"

Gina glanced back to see the young man sitting in H17. She grinned. "Oh, totally. Have you heard him? He's at least a little German, got part of the accent and everything."

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "How do you have part of an accent?"

She shrugged. "Only living there for a little while? You start to pick up things. I had a friend from South Carolina with one of those peppy Southern accents; she lost it in two years and picked up more of Northern Virginia one. It happens."

"Oh…cool." Sarah had never been interested in that kind of stuff, how people work to fit into society and how culture changed.

Gina shook her head wryly. Why'd she even bother? She loaded her cart with the drinks she couldn't freely stock on it unless someone specifically asked for it and headed back down the aisle.

She passed the handsome man, this time he was leaning his forehead against the window and she could see the purple and blue bruise blossoming on his jaw to somehow go lower until it disappeared. Gina seriously hoped he wasn't on the run from the authorities or something, being questioned by them was not nearly as cool or exciting media made them out to be.

Just then he jerked from his doze and met her eyes dead on. Gina froze.

Well, oh _shit._

He smiled that amazing smile again but this time it turned ugly a second later. Gina's heart squeezed and her palms became sweaty. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, and she could only stare in horror as the _Grimm _in front of her just smiled.

A Grimm. A freaking _Grimm_ on the same plane as her! She was going to die. Oh she was so, so, so going to die. It not now, then later with fewer witnesses.

"Gina." A hand touched her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She jumped, but didn't turn to face Sarah in case there was any fur on her face. Woging now into her Fuchsbau visage would not be the greatest of ideas considering in her heightened emotional state of fight-or-flight she wouldn't be able to contain it.

Gina took a deep breath. "I'm okay."

Sarah came into her line of sight, just as Gina's heart rate lowered enough she was sure she wasn't going woge even the slightest.

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked in concern. "You've been standing there for a few minutes now."

She nodded. "I'm fine." She looked around before whispering. "I thought the hot guy winked at me," she lied.

Sarah waggled her eyebrows, grinning mischievously.

"Shut up!" Gina said, forcing a laugh.

They went back to their duties, Gina steadily ignoring the Grimm sitting alone near the window. As the flight went on he started to look more and more haggard, like he wanted to sleep but wouldn't allow himself to.

She passed him two hours before landing. His hand flashed and grabbed her wrist; Gina managed not to scream bloody murder. Screaming would only make it worse for her and her family. Grimms had an affinity for torture if they thought it would be fun.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, his voice rougher than it was before. "I'm not going to hurt you either."

Gina scoffed, her fox tendencies coming in as she straightened herself to face danger with a high chin. "You're a Grimm," she said, snappish. "That's all you do."

He scowled. "Not me, I promise." He reached into his pocket making her flinch a little. "Sorry." The Grimm held something out to her.

She took it. It was blank unless she tilted it at a certain angle then she saw the Royal Crest with a dove in the center. "Seriously?"

He gave her a half-grin. "Seriously. You lot are under his protection. Even if I was a killing Grimm then I would still have to answer to him. And he's kinda scary."

That made her laugh a bit, much to her surprise. She eyed him suspiciously, slipping the card into pocket. "I have my eye on you," she said threatening.

"I have no doubt," he said lightly, returning his forehead to the window.

Gina paused before saying, "We're landing in a hour and a half. I suggest you get some sleep. You look terrible," she added with a slight smirk. Then she walked away, her job done and her protection ensured.

She missed the Grimm muttering:

"Don't I wish."

* * *

**2.**

Juliette Silverton dug through her purse for just two more dollars and came up empty. She groaned and looked apologetically at the barista. "I'm so sorry," she said. "You'll just have to cancel my order."

"No, don't," said a smooth voice with a slight accent she couldn't place, though it didn't sound like any regional North American one. "I've got the rest."

"Thank you," she said. She turned around and met stunning blue eyes, though there were bags under them that just made them seem bluer. Despite the bruise on his jaw he was handsome. Okay, it was not fair for a man to look so gorgeous. Juliette smiled brightly. "Thank you," she repeated. "I don't know how I was going to make it through the morning without good coffee."

The man laughed lightly. "I know how it is." He ordered as well and they moved off to the side. He eyed her. "And you're a doctor. I'm sure you need the caffeine more than others."

"Veterinarian," she corrected, twiddling with the stethoscope around her neck.

He shrugged. "Still a doctor," he said, smiling. "Much better than physicians, if I do say so myself. Just a personal opinion."

She grinned. "And we're on the same page with that." She grabbed her coffee when her name was called.

"Juliette," the man repeated. "That's a pretty name." He stuck out a hand. "I'm Nick, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Juliette said. "Welcome to Portland."

Nick winced good-naturally. "Am I that obvious?"

"No," she assured. "Not at all. I just took a guess. Which, I'm glad I was right because that would've been embarrassing."

He grinned brightly. "I bet you're even cuter when you blush."

She felt her face warm at the compliment.

"Ah-ha!" Nick crowed happily. "I was right. You're absolutely _adorable_."

Juliette couldn't remember the last time a man called her 'cute' or 'adorable,' except her dad when she was tiny and supporting pig-tails. It was a nice difference than what she normally got.

Nick's name was called and he retrieved his own large cup of coffee. He laughed when he realized their drinks were the same size. "Mornings, what are you going to do? I'm still not use to the time difference." He nodded his head at hers. "And Russian Blues are a bitch to hold down."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's a cat, you know that right?"

He grinned. "Oh, I know."

Juliette laughed. Her phone beeped, signaling that if she didn't leave in five then she was never going to get to work on time. The alarm was for rainy days, like now, because the weather always made her sluggish and late to everything. Her alarm was the enforcer.

Nick acknowledged the beep with a salute of his cup. "It was nice talking to, Miss. Juliette. Perhaps we'll see each other around."

"I'd like that actually," she said. "How long are you staying?" She was seriously pushing her time restraints here.

"As of now? Indefinitely," he answered with a shrug and a nonchalant sip of his drink.

_Great!_ "We should meet up for coffee," she said. "And a meal, whether it be breakfast or brunch or anything else. Here. Tomorrow?" Was that too fast? It felt like it was too fast.

Nick though about it for a moment. "You have tomorrow off, I'm guessing?" When she nodded he smiled. "How about brunch at 10 o'clock and you can show me around?"

"Sounds like a plan," she said. Her phone beeped again, telling her this was her last chance to get to work on time. "I've gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be there," he confirmed, nodding.

Juliette pulled her keys out of her purse and rushed out the door, sparing Nick a second glance with a smile. Nina was going to freak out when she heard about this.

* * *

**3.**

Monroe smelled him before he saw him. He was walking down the block, planning on stopping at Spill the Beans before heading to the spice shop, when a whiff of stale blood and cold iron invaded his nose and made him cough harshly.

He put a casual hand over his nose and continued to the coffee house, going slower this time. He couldn't think of any Wesenthat smelled like that. The stale blood was a commonplace, especially around the more vicious ones, but the iron wasn't. It didn't affect most Wesen, but it affected enough that hunters usually smelled like it.

Hunters.

_Oh no._

_Grimm._

There was a Grimm in Portland! Oh my god, he was going to die. He was so dead. He had to warn Rosalee.

Monroe took a deep breath. "Calm down," he told himself. "You don't know if it's a Grimm. It could just be a Hunter, or those freaky Doctor people. Doesn't have to be the most vicious killing machine that you use to look under your bed for at night when you were a kid."

He was never going to mention that he still did occasionally look under his bed for a Grimm even now.

The stench got stronger as he got closer to Spill the Beans. He coughed again and breathed through his mouth. Damn Blutbadsense of smell. His uncle did try to teach him how to block the strong stuff, man he should've listened.

Monroe was not going to let Rosalee start her day off without Hazelnut Hot Chocolate with a shot of espresso. That would be hell. So he put on his most human looking brave face and entered the building.

To almost run into the object of his horror and avoidance.

The shorter man jumped back to save his drink and both their shirts. He sighed in relief. "Wow, that was a close one. Sorry about that." He smiled at Monroe.

He had a German accent! (Okay, not much of one, but enough that Monroe could recognize it.) He was a Grimm.

_There was a freaking Grimm in freaking Portland!_

They were all doomed. The War was here now. He thought it would take at least another twenty years for the War to reach Portland. Guess he thought wrong.

His panic made him woge ever so slightly, his eyes turning red and his teeth elongating. That made him panic even more because he was _woging in front of a Grimm._

His hands shot up on his own accord, subtle enough the rest of the house didn't notice. "I don't want any trouble, man," he said at the same time he berated himself; _yeah, like he was going to listen to that pathetic plead to spare his life. _"I just want to get my tea and an espresso hot chocolate."

The Grimm hadn't made a move during or after Monroe woged a little, but now he gave a little grin and raised an eyebrow. "Espresso hot chocolate? How does that even work?" He shook his head. "You know what? I don't want to know. Easy," he said. "I don't want any trouble either, trust me. Enjoy your tea." With that, he saluted Monroe with his cup and walked out the door without a backwards glance.

Monroe stared after him. Did a Grimm just let a Blutbad go? Forgive him for stating the obvious, but that never, ever happened in the stories his other Uncle and his mother use to tell him.

"Hey, Monroe!" The friendly barista called out. "Just in time. I've got your drinks. Wednesday Green Tea with honey, right? And Miss. Rosalee's Hot Chocolate with espresso." She slid the out over the counter. "Did I get that right?"

"Perfect, Catalina," he assured. He sipped his drink and hummed his content. "This is wonderful. You're learning, I promise."

She smiled happily, slight indents of whiskers appearing on her cheeks and her ears pointing enough to wiggle a little. "Let me know what Miss. Rosalee thinks about her drink."

He glanced at it. "Did you do something to it?"

"Something special," she said shyly. "Nothing, bad. I think she'll like it."

"I'm sure she will," he agreed. He dug out the money and handed it to her. "Thanks again, Catalina."

"See you Friday!" She said in response, waving as he left.

He headed straight for the spice shop seven doors down, bursting through the doors, and announcing that he came baring drinks.

Rosalee came from the back with a smile. "Did Catalina get it right this time?" She asked.

Monroe nodded. "Mine's right. She did something new to yours, though. She said you would like it anyway."

"Well, let's see." She picked it up and took a sip. Her eyes closed in bliss and she did a little happy dance. "Oohh," she moaned in a way that made Monroe warm a little under the collar. "She added some strawberry syrup. This is amazing. Tell her to do that next time too. And the time after that. Tell her to do it every time."

He chuckled. "Will do." He kissed her sweetly. "Anything interesting happen in the hour you've been open?"

That made her laugh. "Weseninteresting, no. I did get a normal person in looking for a way to boost his, um, performance with natural ingredients."

"Okay, ew," he complained. "You don't need to tell me this."

"But he told me!" She exclaimed. "I had to suffer."

"Doesn't mean I have to."

She smirked and grabbed his arm with her free hand, tugging him to a cushioned chair so she could sit on him. "Now you do," she said smugly. "Anyway. Apparently his performance has ben less than amazing and he's worried both his wife and girlfriend are going to leave him. His wife is a complete tiger in bed and—."

"There's a Grimm in Portland," he blurted out just to have story-time end. He smacked his head. "This is not how I wanted to tell you."

"What?" Rosalee said flatly. "What do you mean there's a Grimm in Portland? You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding."

He shook his head. "I saw him at the coffee house. He's a Grimm and here."

"Does he know who you are?" She demanded.

"No, he doesn't," he assured. "But he does know there's at least one Blutbadand Fuchsbau. I'm sure Catalina couldn't keep herself contained, there's just something terrifying about him that makes you so defensive."

He didn't kill Monroe or Catalina, was he buying himself time?

Time for what, though? The War? Waiting for reinforcements for it? Was he reconnaissance?

"Is this it?" Rosalee asked. "The War's here, isn't it?"

"We don't know that for sure," he protested weakly. "Let's wait for news from the Regent or the Resistance before we jump on a plane to New Zealand or whatever."

"The Resistance," she said. "I don't trust that _Roya_l," she sneered the word. "How do we know he's really on our side?"

Monroe shrugged. "No problems since he started up his gig. We don't even know if he's actually a Royal."

She rolled her eyes. "He uses the Royal seal, but with a dove. I think that's proof enough. We don't even know who he is. That Grimm is probably here on his orders." Rosalee paused and took a long gulp that probably burned the hell out of her mouth, but she didn't react. "I'm going to give them both a month. If there's no assurance in person by then, I'm leaving. You can stay or you can go."

"I'll go, you know that," he said with no hesitation. "Promise." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come on. It's getting to be that time."

She made a face, but got up anyway. "Let's get to work!"


	2. Chapter 2

Of Monsters and Men

Grimm

Mikkal

* * *

**4.**

There was a knock at the door that made Captain Sean Renard grit his teeth before he told himself very firmly to calm down. He's the one who chose police captain as his choice of authority; he couldn't regret it after all this time. Especially not now.

"Come in," he said.

Sergeant Wu stuck his head in. "Captain, there's someone here to see you."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Who is it?"

"Didn't say." Wu came fully into the room this time, holding something flat and white between his fingers. "Though he said to give you this."

Sean took it warily, though he didn't show it outwardly. He examined it and found, to his surprise, the last thing he expected to see in the station. "Send him in," he said.

Wu nodded and left to grab the visitor. Sean took that time to tilt the card every which way. It didn't look like a fake. In fact it looked a little worn, like someone had been holding it for a long time. Strange, no one really did that.

The door opened again to admit a young man, probably late twenties or early thirties, with blue eyes, pale skin, and raven black hair. He had terrible bags under his eyes and bruise on his jaw, he held his body in a way that made Sean think there were more injuries underneath his layers of clothes.

"You must be Captain Sean Renard, Regent of Portland." He grinned. "Well, honestly, all of North American and little bit of Canada. I can't say I expected you to set up post in this place, let alone as a police captain."

"I'm sorry," Sean said, giving him a dark look. "I don't believe we met."

"You're certainly nicer than your brother, I'll give you that." He stuck out a hand. "My name is Nick." He gave no last name; Sean gave him a point of approval.

Sean shook it. "You know my brother."

Nick nodded. "Complete bastard." He gestured to the chair. "May I?"

"Be my guest." He sat when Nick did then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the surface of his desk. "What can I do for you, Nick? Actually, right now I'm interested in how you got one of my cards."

The man seemed to sag in his chair, eyes closing. Now that he made his first impression he let his actual exhaustion show. Sean vaguely wondered when it was the last time Nick had sleep decently.

"A family of beavers," he said. "Gave me a stack of them a long time ago." He opened his eyes and met Sean's gaze full on. "I want to join your side. I want to bring down the Families and the Reapers and the freakin' Verrat."

"Do you now?" Sean said, unconvinced. "Why?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Because they're terrible organizations with more in common with Nazi and Hitler than anything else? Why else?"

"I doubt you would be useful."

He shrugged. "Probably. I probably won't, but that doesn't mean I can't help in little ways. I spent twenty years with them and it was hell. If someone doesn't stop them then we're going to have World War Three on our hands and a lot of people, normal and Wesen, are going to die in the crossfire."

"What do you know about them?" Sean demanded. Twenty years? What made Nick back out now?

Nick cradled his head in his hands. "That's the thing, barely anything. I was young, reckless, impulsive. They kept me in the dark so I wouldn't ruin any of their plans." He smiled bitterly. "I think they knew from the very beginning I would end up doing something like this." He groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"A Grimm on the side of the Resistance. It could be worse." Sean mused out loud for more of his benefit than Nick's.

Nick shrugged. "It could be," he agreed, not even questioning why Sean knew what he was.

Right now Sean wished he had the ledger of all known Grimms and others in the world; he seriously wanted to know where Nick was with his skill level and what his last name was. Even though the binding would never work without Nick giving his full name to him personally before Sean knew his name for himself, Sean would still feel better about knowing.

"I agree," Sean said. "If you screw up even once, I'm sending you back to the hands of my brother."

Nick shuddered. "That is a very convincing threat." He gave a mock salute. "I promise I won't jeopardize my life."

Sean frowned at the comment. "What made you leave?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Reasons."

It looked like the Grimm was going to leave it at that. "I want you back here a two tomorrow," he said. "Until then, get some sleep. You look like crap."

Nick laughed loudly. "I've been getting that a lot. I didn't think I looked _that_ bad." He yawned. "See you tomorrow Captain Renard." He tossed him a wave and walked out the door.

Sean sighed and rubbed his temple. He could already feel the tension headache coming. He was going to seriously regret this, wasn't he?

* * *

**5.**

A mailman killing and abducting and _eating_ women and children who wore red hoods. Killed when trying to resist arrest, injuring several officers and the lead detective. Blutbad_._

A woman and her boyfriend hunted down by a family who had an affinity for old native weapons and artwork. Could be a lot of things, but Jagerbar was the best guess_._

Mellifers.

Ziegevolk.

And probably more.

Portland was keeping it weird all right. Nick sighed and sat back in the chair, massaging the back of his neck to ease the headache that just wouldn't go away.

What was Renard thinking, letting all these Wesen act out like this?

Alright, that wasn't fair to the man. He was an estranged Royal who didn't have Grimms, Reapers, or the Verrat on his side. Hell, he barely had any Wesen in his army. How did he expect to survive the War?

Which is why Nick finally came back to the sates after twenty years. He would just be a drop in the bucket, but hopefully he could help enough to get the ball rolling.

He finished the last of the horrible hotel coffee before closing his computer. He stretched and checked the time, groaning when it read only 6:20. Nick stood up, rubbing his forehead, and threw on some jogging clothes. Might as well get some running in before meeting the beautiful Juliette at the coffee house.

Nick shut the door and put the key card in his pocket, zipping it up with his phone so neither of them would be lost. He then started a fast walk down the stairs, avoiding the elevators, and through the lobby before picking up speed once he made it out on the sidewalk.

So far so good on his first day in Portland. He met a beautiful woman who wanted to have brunch, managed to scare a Blutbad (though, maybe that wasn't so good), met the Regent and set up an official meeting.

All in all, despite everything this was looking to be a Disney inspired fairytale instead of a Grimm one. Of course, knowing his luck, it was all going to go down hill in a matter of days. As soon as the Families realized where he was there was going to be hell to pay. His mother was going to be so angry.

Well, most of this was her fault anyway so she couldn't really blame him. Not that that ever stopped her before.

His vision swam for a moment, making him slow to a walk. Nick panted a little heavier than he should be and checked his pulse, a little too fast as well. He glanced back to see where he was—if wouldn't be the first time he ran past his limits because he was too distracted by his thoughts—only to see that he was well within his normal limit.

He groaned and doubled over, hand going over his stomach as if that would quell the nausea building slowly. His head felt stuffed with static and black dots danced in the corners of his sight.

Okay, maybe a jog wasn't the best idea. Especially now.

Nick staggered to lean against the nearby brick wall, sliding down to sit. He closed his eyes and took deep breathes, in through his nose then out through his mouth.

"Hey, you okay?"

He jerked in surprise, his eyes flying open to come face to face with a woman's warm brown eyes. She was leaning over him, a paper bag of groceries in one arm and a key in her free hand.

"Yeah," he croaked out, running a hand down his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks."

The woman frowned. "No offense, but you don't look fine."

Nick shook his head. "I am, promise. Just ran a little too hard, that's all."

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "If you say so."

He watched her as subtly as he could as she unlocked a door and headed inside. Nick waited a few moments, stabilizing himself, before he stood up to go back to the hotel. He glanced at the sign and smirked a little at "Exotic Tea and Spice" because that was such a glaringly obvious name.

* * *

**6.**

Sean was not expecting Nick to be at the station an hour earlier than the planned time. The Grimm was lounging in a chair, talking to Junior Detective Scott, an easy yet fake smile on his face. He didn't look any better than yesterday. He looked worse, in fact.

"Detective," he barked, making Scott jumped. "Where's the report from the Hudson murder?"

"Uh, sir, it's," Scott fumbled. "I'll, uh, get right on that." He scurried away.

The Grimm looked amused. "Seems a little timid for a homicide detective, doesn't he?"

Sean shook his head. "It's a wonder why he chose this profession. He would do better in Domestic Violence. Murders make him queasy." Sometimes he just didn't have the power; the Mayor apparently was an old family friend to the Scotts.

Nick nodded knowingly, but didn't say a word.

"Why don't we go into my office?" Sean gestured to aforementioned office and started walking, indicating he wanted Nick to follow. Too many nosey officers were giving Nick curious, calculating looks. He shut the door when the Grimm entered then headed to his seat. "Why do you think I asked you to meet me?"

Nick sat down gingerly. "To make sure I know the rules and codes of your domain so I don't go ruining everything you've build just because I was being stupid."

Sean blinked. "That's right," he said, unsurprised that Nick knew. He was more surprised that Nick didn't dance around the issue, Grimms were notoriously proud. "I only have a few rules."

The Grimm actually pulled out a little notebook from his pocket, along with a pen, and sat there with a ready air. "List away."

He rolled his eyes. Oh, this one was going to be a hand full he could already tell. "No killing," he said. "Unless sanctioned by me or you know for sure that they have been killing outside of traditions. Don't go around telling people you're a Grimm. And try to make friends with some of the Wesen around here. The stronger ties you have the less likely the Families can take you back when they get wind of this."

Nick pressed his lips together as he wrote the last word, eyes hard like flecks of ice. "It's not going to be long," he said. "I'll take care of any Reaper coming to town, don't worry."

"You think you warrant Reapers?" Sean asked warily. Grimm Reapers were a myth to most of the Wesen world, but they were very much real and they were only dispatched if the most brutal or terrifying Grimms went rogue.

"My aunt was Maria Kessler," Nick said after a moment of pause. "Just by default of being her nephew gets me a visit from the Reapers." He shrugged. "I'm not dangerous, but I _could _be dangerous. The 'what if' scares them."

Sean tried desperately to hide his shock, he had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't doing a very good job, but Nick didn't indicate he saw any kind of emotion on the Captain's face.

Maria Kessler? One of the most gruesome, terrifying Grimms ever records? Being a Grimm required a certain amount of murder and mayhem and obedience, but Maria Kessler went beyond that. Only her sister, Kelly Burkhardt, matched her in that area.

Which made this man Nickolas Burkhardt. There were rumors about him, rumors that he was just as ruthless as his family, but looking at him now made Sean think those rumors were just that, rumors. Sure, he look competent, but not on the level that a Grimm of the Families should be.

Nick waved his hand. "I know, I know. Don't say anything about how I don't look the part to be in the Kessler family, I got that enough back there." He sighed as he stood up, pulling out a cream colored card from his pocket. "This is my information," he said, handing it to Sean. "I'll be on call for anything. You have my word."

Sean nodded, standing out of politeness. Before he could say anything though, there was a knock at the door and Hank stuck his head inside.

"Sir," he said, eyes flicking up and down to take Nick's appearance. "There's a swarm of reporters outside. Kyle Lane has been kidnapped."

He sighed. He hated kidnappings, especially when the child was only eight and the family was well off and felt they were entitled to everything. "Give me five," he said, frank dismissal. Hank nodded and disappeared. "I'll leave you to getting acquainted with Portland."

Nick nodded and began to leave.

"Oh, and Burkhardt," he said—using the man's last name just to let him know he knew it. "I thought I told you to get some sleep. You'll be useless if anything comes up."

He grimaced then left without so much as a sound.

Sean straighten his tie, let out a sigh, then headed out to give a press conference about a young boy who wanted to be a police officer when he grew up.


	3. Chapter 3

Of Monsters and Men

Grimm

Mikkal

* * *

**7.**

Rosalee tidied up her spices as the last customer left. The after-lunch rush was over and she was more than happy to sit down even for a second to let her feet rest. Monroe had come by to have lunch with her, but he couldn't hang around longer to help out since he had a grandfather clock commission and a few pocket watches to work on.

She smiled as she remembered the way Monroe practically lit up as he talked about his work. It was a joy to see, and she was glad he was over his awkward ramblings from embarrassment (though he still stumbled into those a few times).

When they first met, after her brother was killed, they didn't know what to do. Rosalee wasn't sure if she could handle shop as it was Wesen and human, and Monroe wasn't expecting to see her there. He wasn't a regular customer so he didn't know about Freddie like everyone else did.

He came more often after that and it took Rosalee an embarrassing amount of time to realize he was coming for _her_. After she realized that, though, everything just clicked into place and the ball got rolling.

Rosalee sighed and frowned. Though, with that Grimm in town and the War probably only a few months from reaching Portland things might get a little rocky. She didn't want them to, but with her family's connection to the Wesen Council she was expected to be on a certain side.

She wasn't sure if that was the right side anymore.

The bell rang as the door opened and she put on a smile. "Hello," she said. "Anything I can help you find?"

"Ah, maybe." It was the man she had seen this morning sitting outside her shop and moments away from passing out. He didn't look any better; in fact he looked a little worse. "I was wondering if there was a spell or potion that kept someone from sleeping for weeks at a time?"

She frowned. "It would be impossible for a potion to just keep you from sleeping, the body can only go so long before giving out. It'd have to be something to keep you awake and keep you going at the same time."

The man nodded. "Is there something like that?"

Rosalee eyed him. "I generally don't deal in illegals," she said. There was something off about this man.

He shook his head. "I don't want the potion. I want a cure." He gestured at his face, specifically at the bags under his eyes (but she noticed the bruise too). "I have that spell on me and I need it off."

She hesitated (there was something seriously off about this man, and it wasn't the Sleeping Beauty spell…that wasn't the actual name) then let herself woge into a Fuchsbau. Custom dictated that he would have to woge as well.

But he didn't, he just raised an impatient eyebrow.

Well, shit.

"Grimm," she snarled, backing up just a bit before standing her ground. She wasn't going to run away, if he wanted her dead then he would have to settle for her taking him down as well.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That's getting really old," he said, shoulders sagging. "I just really want this spell off me," he added pathetically. "You lot are under the Regent's protection anyway. I couldn't touch you even if I wanted to. I'm here to protect you too, you know." Rosalee still wasn't sure and that must have shown on her face because he suddenly burst out with, "My name is Nickolas Burkhardt, descendent of the Kessler Grimms."

Rosalee gaped at him. Did he…? Seriously, did he just give her his whole name?

And did he just say _Kessler_?

He stood there patiently for her to shut her mouth. Rosalee did with a click, her face growing hot in embarrassment before she shook herself. Here she was, being embarrassed about being more-or-less star struck when there was a _Kessler Grimm _waiting for her to _cure him._

If she refused, he was probably was going to behead her.

"Er," she started awkwardly. "Do you know who cursed you?" She asked.

Nickolas shook his head. "No." He wavered where he stood and put a hand on the pillar to keep himself from falling over. "I can tell you it was probably a Royal. I felt like crap before I left. They probably did it as a prank."

"That's a pretty terrible prank," Rosalee said.

"I've had worse," he muttered, probably not expecting Rosalee to be able to hear him.

She pulled out a book and began to skim through it. "So, you can't sleep. Anything else?"

"Headaches," he started. "My vision swims. I get dizzy. Nausea. _Sometimes _I see things. Not all the time," he said hastily when Rosalee gave him an alarmed look. "Sometimes," he repeated. "And loss of appetite."

He was very through, Rosalee approved. So much better than the Wesen who came in trying to avoid their embarrassing mishaps. Even humans did it. And Rosalee did not have a very long temper. It was only slightly longer than short.

"I'll pay you," the Grimm added. "I mean, you're making me a cure. If I was just a normal customer I'd have to pay anyway."

Rosalee smirked. "Honestly, I was going to charge you anyway. These things aren't cheap you know." This man was surprisingly easy to feel loose around despite the fact he was a Kessler Grimm. Maybe he was using something to influence her?

The Grimm laughed then swayed again. He reached out to steady himself, only he missed and stumbled, his knee going down. Rosalee dropped the book she was holding and rushed to his side in a small panic. She caught him in jus enough time to soften his landing, but she heard a painful _crack! _as his knee met the ground.

He groaned and listed to the side, almost bring Rosalee with him, but she managed to keep him relatively upright.

"Hey, Rosalee," Monroe's voice was loud as he walked through the door. "I forgot—What the crap?" He exclaimed.

"Oh hey, Monroe!" Rosalee said brightly—a little too brightly, perhaps slightly hysterical. "What did you forget? Could it wait a little? I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"That's the Grimm I told you about," Monroe hissed even as he knelt down to help out.

"Really?" Rosalee said sarcastically. "I would have never guessed. It's not like he told me his name or anything."

Monroe's eyes widened in shock. "He _what?"_

"The Grimm can still hear you," the exhausted man groaned. "And please don't call me an idiot, I know exactly what telling people my full name means. Whatever. Just, help me this once and I'll leave you alone unless the Prince dictates something different. Alright?"

He was practically begging.

Rosalee sighed. "Help me get him to to the bed," she said, jerking her head to indicate the side room that had a lounge bed.

She ignored the look of disbelief Monroe sent her way and swung one of the Grimm's arms over her shoulders. Monroe grumbled but did the same on the other side. Together, and with a little help from the exhausted man, they half-dragged the Grimm to the bed.

"And could you _please _stop referring me to 'the Grimm' in your head? I know you are! It's a little obvious." The Grimm—er, Nick said, his eyes closed and his breathing a little labored.

If he'd been a friend Rosalee would've been overly concerned. He looked as if he was going to drop dead at any second. But since he was a Grimm and she and Monroe were Wesen, she was just going to be slightly worried.

"Monroe, stay with him," she more-or-less ordered. "Make sure he doesn't do anything.

He shot her a look of panic, his eyes wide and eyebrows high. "Are you serious?" He hissed.

"Very," she said. "Something tells me bad things will happen if we let this continue.

"Yeah," Monroe said emphatically. "Something could kill him! Fix all our problems."

"Or his dead could send a very pissed off Royal on our tails. For all we know he's already under the Royal's command."

"Which I so am," Nick mumbled from his position of faux relaxation. One of his arms was thrown over his eyes, but his shoulders and back were tense and straight. "Though, he doesn't care much about me yet. So, yeah, you could theoretically just kick me out and let a Skalenzahne get to me. Won't hold it against you. My relatives are and were bastards."

Rosalee sighed. "Stop trying to guilt me into helping you, I've already decided to. Just give it a break."

She ignored Monroe's mutterings and went back to finding the right potion. She took some blood to test and found the right one within a matter of hours.

"Found it," she announced to Monroe and Nick. "It's going to take another hour or so to make. Are you able to pay now or should I open a tab? I suggest you say now," she said lightly.

Nick huffed a laugh then moaned in pain. "If you take cash, which you probably do, then yeah. No cards, can't risk some certain somebodies finding me so soon."

"Monroe, could you come help me?" Rosalee asked. She couldn't reach the first ingredient off a tall shelf and didn't feel like getting the step stool. Nick was in no condition to do anything terribly Grimm-related, so she was pretty sure it was safe.

"I'm surprised he's lasted this long," Monroe told her quietly as he handed the jar to her. "He looks like a feather could knock him over."

Rosalee snorted. "And here I thought he was looking bad this morning." She told him about finding Nick outside the shop before she opened while she started mixing some things together in a bowl. Most of what went into the potion were liquid so that made the mess smaller.

"This is wonderful," Nick groaned from his prone position. "I can feel the bonding. Can you feel the bonding, guys? This is the start of something beautiful and bloody."

Monroe stared in Nick's direction, eyes wide and scent giving off amusement, apprehension, and disbelief. "That's it. He's lost it. I mean, I agree with the whole bloody thing, but he's crazy."

"I'm not crazy," Nick called.

Rosalee would strongly disagree. Nick was definitely crazy.

"I'm not crazy," Nick repeated quietly. Oh, that was never a good sign. "I just don't feel well. There's a difference. Hell, one of you could rip out my throat right now. Forget the Skalenzahne." He hummed absently mindedly. "Crocs really like throats."

Monroe shuddered. "And I _really _don't like this."

"Just think of it like this," Rosalee said, pulling the last ingredient off the shelf and dropping it into the little phial. She pressed her thumb to the top and her index finger to the bottom and shook it. "When I fix him then he can't kill us. He'll owe us."

For some reason she didn't want to tell Monroe Nick's name. Even if she did tell him the power wouldn't work since it wasn't directly from Nick himself. Nick gave it to her in a fit of desperation, she wondered if he was fully aware how much he was giving away with that information. She had three chances to control him absolutely now. All she needed was to say this full name and then her order.

She didn't even know Monroe's full name, he didn't know hers. To him she was Rosalee Clavert, but she had a middle name to. And to her he was just Monroe

And they were perfectly alright with that.

"Okay…Nick," she said slowly. Rosalee walked over to the Grimm. Somehow he managed to look even worse than he did ten minutes ago. "You're going to have to drink this."

He struggled to sit up, his face paling then going a faint hue of green. "Perfect timing," he mumbled. "I was about to puke on your floor."

"I'm not cleaning it up!" Monroe announced.

"I said 'about to,'" Nick snapped. He took the phial from Rosalee with trembling fingers. "Is it, er, is it suppose to be smoking?"

Rosalee pressed her lips together before saying, "I'm pretty sure."

Nick eyed the potion warily. "See, bonding. You may possible kill me trying to cure me. Unless that was your plan all along. Honestly, I'm not surprised if it was."

"Just drink the darn thing," Monroe said, rolling his eyes. "It's like talking to a child."

"_You're_ the child," Nick muttered pathetically. He took a deep breath and downed the contents of the phial in one go. "Oh God," he spluttered. "That's nasty." He started coughing and gagging muttering curses under his breath in German, hand going to his stomach and another going to his throat as he choked a little.

When the coughing stopped his breathing was heavy and he was listing to the side. Monroe actually reached out to stop Nick's descent with a hand on his shoulder.

"Wow," Nick murmured, his voice soft and his eyelashes fluttering. "I think it worked." Then he slumped and almost crashed to the floor (again) if it weren't for Monroe catching him in time.

They stared at the sleeping—unconscious?—Grimm. Monroe looked from Nick to Rosalee.

"So…I guess we'll just leave him here?" He said. "Or dump him on the street? I favor the street option."

Rosalee rolled her eyes. "You're incredibly blood-thirsty today," she commented.

"Blame the Grimm. He gives me the heebee-jeebees."

She chuckled and dug in Nick's pockets to find his wallet, inside was a room key for a small hotel nearby. "We'll take him to his room. It's probably been a while since he's slept on something comfortable." She eyed Monroe sideways. "Plus, you could always check what weapons he's brought with him, figure out what we're up against."

Monroe perked up at that. "Sounds good to me!" He said enthusiastically.

* * *

**8.**

Sean did as much research as possible, exhausting almost all of his contacts in search of any and all information on Nick Burkhardt. His mother Kelly Burckhardt and aunt Marie Kessler popped up a lot—not surprising considering their Wesen body count—and Nick's father appeared, a little more surprising, but since the man's death had been in the New York papers and he had True Sight then it was a given he'd pop up a little. 99 percent of True Sighted people killed themselves or were locked up in mental hospitals, Nick's father was the 1 percent.

It was painfully easy to find facts about Kelly Burkhardt and Kessler, their names were going to be in the books for hundreds of years to come. The only thing Sean could find about Nick were all rumors, nothing concrete. That bothered him.

He wanted to gauge how powerful Nick was before anything major happened. The Reapers were started to enter the New World in larger numbers, the Verrat was growing in viciousness, and the Families were tightening their iron grips. Sean really needed a capable, powerful, and blood-thirsty enough (but not too much they couldn't be controlled) Grimm under his command.

From what he'd seen of Nick so far, he wasn't exactly living up to Sean's expectations and the circling rumors. Let alone the man's semi-assured statement that Reapers were going to come after him. Sean highly doubted Reapers would bother themselves with a "what if " situation, as Nick had described himself, even if he was a Kessler.

His thoughts were interrupted by one of his personal mobile phones ringing. Sean sighed at the "unknown" number and answered.

"There is a Grimm no longer under the Families' control," a contact said quickly in French. "A Kessler Grimm. Nickolas Burkhardt. He's extremely dangerous and last seen in Virginia, after that they lost him."

"They lost him?" Sean repeated, managing to sound a little angry despite the disbelief raging through his nerves. "How do you lose him?"

His contact growled. "He's a Kessler. I do not know what kind of training their get, but it's through. He's killed Reapers before, either dictated by your brother or because they were actively going after him when they had no right. A few were tracking him when he left his living quarters. He killed two of of them before he left the country.

Now Sean was getting somewhere. He smirked. Though Nick honestly did not look that capable (he looked seconds away from collapsing, the time getting shorter every time he saw the man), what his contact was telling him matched the rumors almost perfectly.

Sean was liking this dissonance of the image Nick was giving off and what he was actually able to do. He could use that to his advantage.

"And what do you want me to do about it?" Sean asked, his voice calm and level. He was incredibly bored now and the contact was still breathing heavily in panic.

"If you see him, kill him. He's too dangerous and too unpredictable to rely on. We're surprised he's lasted this long without going rogue. That man is loyal to no one."

Well, the was a little worrying. Not much, but a little. Obviously his brother was not doing his job well. If Nick could kill Reapers so easily then he was definitely someone have on your side so his brother should've tried to keep this particular Grimm in check better.

"I'll see what I can do," Sean said. He hung up without saying a farewell.

He rested his elbows on his desk and leaned his chin against his hands. This was what needed. Now, if what his contact said was true, he had a real reason to keep Nick around and use him. He just needed to get the local Wesen community to accept him at least a little bit.

Detective Hank Griffin knocked on his door and came in without waiting for permission. "I've got news about Kyle Lane," he said, opening a file and setting it in front of Sean.

Sean took a deep breath and read through the file as Hank gave him a rundown. He listened with half a ear to catch if Hank gave his own thoughts about the case, which he did a lot and it was always valuable.

"The man is strong," Hank said. "Ripped a door right off its hinges. I hear about people taking the hinges off with a screw driver, but never just ripping it off with their own two hands. The Lane's can't think of anyone that strong who would want to take Kyle. They were a little twitchy though, so someone's lying."

Sean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was definitely a Wesen thing. Great. The last few time Hank told him someone was twitchy they turned out to be Eisbibers, they can hid their faces but they can't hide the actual motions of the woge.

He _hated _Wesen related cases and, since this was Portland, they got a lot of Wesen cases. You'd think they know not to do it since there was a Royal here, but no.

Either Sean would have to take care of it (it being the abductor, there were dozens of Wesens who had the strength to rip off a door. He just needed to do the research now) or he'd call in a few Wesen who were loyal to him and each other.

Wait a second. Sean smiled. He didn't need to do that.

He had a Grimm now.

* * *

_Edited: August 31, 2013 12:08 pm_

_Author's Note: And this ends the little B-Plot of Nick being unable to sleep. But this won't be the last we see of it. Promise. Let me know if you see any mistakes. I miss things sometimes._


	4. Chapter 4

Of Monsters and Men

Grimm

Mikkal

* * *

**9.**

Nick slept for slightly longer than 24 hours (with breaks to go to the loo) and when he finally woke to morning light he definitely felt better than before. Not quite up to his usual level, but enough that Renard should stop nagging him about getting some sleep.

And perhaps Juliette wasn't scared off by his obvious lack-of-sleep appearance and would like another date.

Nick couldn't believe how long it took him to realize something was wrong with him. People pulling malicious pranks on him was common, he wasn't Royal and the only time he was a "proper" bloodthirsty Grimm was when Reapers involved and that didn't exactly count as "proper" (he should be bloodthirsty all the time). Two months ago someone managed to slip some sort of pain potion into his drink so every time he drank or ate it felt like knives were being stabbed into his throat, chest, and stomach.

So, really, he should've figured out what was wrong with him earlier.

He stretched and swung his legs over the bed to set them on the ground. He blinked and glanced around. Nick never noticed before, but he was in his hotel room. How…?

Ah, Monroe and Rosalee.

No doubt to figure out what kind of weapons he had. Well, in Monroe's case. Rosalee just seems like an amazing person all around. She could have poisoned him or not helped him at all. Monroe seemed like a pretty loyal guy. Wieder, but loyal.

Wieder did not mean dangerous, a lot of people forgot that. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

They both seem like decent people. Nick would have to get closer to them in due time.

He paused and shook his head. He shouldn't make friends just to gain an advantage. For once he should make friends just to make friends, forget about the looming war and that they were wesen and he was a Grimm.

Nick just really needed some friends for once.

His eyes burned and he rubbed them with his knuckles. Crying over being friendless was not the most brilliant thing. He so didn't need to do that.

No, what he needed to do was pay Rosalee for her cure (he did check his wallet first to make sure she didn't help herself to the payment) and check out the non-criminal wesen that liked to hang around here in Portland.

As it turned out, Nick was halfway to the spice shop when Renard called.

"Get down here," the Royal said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Nick was feeling pretty fantastic today so he answered with, "Hello to you too, Renard. What a lovely day, isn't it? Oh, sorry. What did you want me to do?"

Renard sighed and muttered something dark under his breath. Nick smirked, it was only day three in Portland and he was itching to get on someone's nerves. It was always his specialty. And even if Renard didn't seem to realize it, the Royal needed him. The Reapers and the Verrat and the Families were going to come to the New World whether Nick was heralding them or not, now he just had a little extra protection.

"Sorry, sir," Nick said almost politely. Almost, but not quite. Nick was not ready (nor did he ever think he'd be ready) to take absolute orders from a Royal…or anyone for that matter. "You wanted me to come to the station? Why?"

"Missing kid," Renard said. "It's a hot case and looks like wesen are involved. Normally I would give it to some people on my side." When he said people, he most definitely did not mean humans. "But I just remembered I had a Grimm."

Nick rolled his eyes. He wasn't expecting to do a cop's job, but, hey, if it's wesen he's kind of had a duty. "Is this the Lane kid that's missing?"

"Yes. Get here now, we're on a tight schedule."

"Give twenty and I'll be right there," Nick said. He hung up without saying goodbye. Looked like Rosalee was getting her money later rather than sooner.

* * *

**10.**

Kyle Lane was absolutely terrified. He was trapped in a dungeon (well, it was a basement, but it was so much scarier than his basement at home that they shouldn't have the same name) with a hurting arm and chest. His face was furry and his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

His parents were the bravest and kindest Hundjäger he knew and Kyle had a feeling he wasn't living up to their name. After all, what was a little puppy to do when kidnapped by Dickfellig? What were they after?

Kyle shivered and pulled his knees close to his chest. His parents weren't like normal Hundjäger, they were nice and kind and nervous people instead of the attack dogs most were like. Eisbibers liked them, which had to be a sign of something good in them—they were the most amicable dogs ever. Outcasts from their large family, but not minding because Portland gave them friends, the Royal didn't care that their bark was worse than their bite.

So why did these rhinos kidnap Kyle? What had his parents done? Or didn't do?

A loud thump from above made him whimper and curl a little tighter into himself. He felt himself woge—that tingle on his face and in his heart—and his ears laid flat on his head.

"Where the hell is that bitch?" A rough voice said, it sounded like the man Kyle called One Eye on the account of his, well, one eye. "She was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago if she wanted to see her brat again."

Kyle shivered and buried his head to his knees. This was a nightmare. He could pretend that. This was all just a nightmare.

There was another thump and a creak. The crack in the floor above him shadowed over.

_Knock. Knock._

Kyle's eyes pricked up. Was it his mom? It wasn't sure if he should feel happy about that or worried. It's been three days, what could possibly happen now?

Then suddenly the world above him turned to chaos. Grunts and the sound of flesh against flesh, things rattled and broke. Something heavy landed on the ground and made the whole building shuddered. One Eye was shouting and cursing and then screaming in pain and fear

And then…nothing.

Everything was dead silent, not even the sound of whimpering or gasping until there was a creak of someone's footsteps—someone lighter than either of the rhinos.

Kyle shoved himself behind some pipes and tried to make himself appear smaller. Anything that could take down two rhinos was something to be feared.

The door to the basement opened, shedding light in the darkness, and a figure Kyle could just barely see full of stepped down the stairs in deliberate movements.

"Kyle?" A voice called, it was soft and rough with an accent that was unfamiliar. "Kyle Lane? My name's Nick, I'm with the Portland Police."

He shook his head. Like he was going to believe that. He didn't sound like anyone from the station even though there was a Nick there, but that Nick worked in the filing room.

"Renard sent me," Nick continued to say. "The Prince? You know him? He wanted me to get you personally."

All right, that made some sense.

"I have proof!" Nick said. "If you want it. A certain card the little Prince likes to hand out to the allies and the trustworthy ones. You want to see it?"

Kyle stayed silent.

Which Nick took as a yes. "It's a little hard to see it if you're hidden from me. You want to come out? No tricks, promise."

He crawled out from his little spot slowly. It was still dark, but the dim light from the open door illuminated a man. The shadows made his skin ghostly pale and the one eye that was un-shadowed was almost too blue—like the eye of Fae or something mystical.

A flash of white was Nick pulling out a little rectangle and tossing it to him. It slid on the ground until it rested near him, it design of a Royal crest with a dove on it was proof that this Nick was who he said he was and on a mission for Captain Renard.

Kyle smiled and glanced up at Nick. The man smiled back.

"Come on, your parents are worried."


End file.
